Your erotic stories

"I think it's wreckage of a ship. From the storm last night. It's not strange to find ship wreckage on the Cefalu beach after a tempest like that." Two scouts, on their regular patrol along the Adrano coastline while the forces of the Prince of Madness sought to invade the island nation, had stopped on the beach, their attention arrested by shattered ship planking and tangles of shredded sailcloth washing up in the surf.

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The name's Piper. Peter Piper. But I don't pick pecks of pickled peppers. I solve cases. I'm a private dick. That's a detective for those of you who don't know the lingo. A private eye. It was a miserable Friday afternoon. Cold, damp, foggy. The weather was foul. And so was my mood. My bank account was dwindling at an alarming pace. I hadn't had a case in weeks. I was sitting behind my battered desk in my shabby office on the second floor of the Burke building, downtown. Way downtown. I was sitting there and I was worrying. If something didn't happen soon, I was in deep shit. I had bills to pay.

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Ian was on a roll. With the second draft of lyrics well under way and the melody writing itself, he knew he'd finally gotten it. He'd finally written a love song to rival all love songs. Honest, pure, impossible to ignore: exactly what he was going for. Becca had to listen to this. She'd have no choice but to love him and allow herself to be loved in return. He's just started mapping chord progressions when someone knocked on his door.

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Kelly and I were having a night out on the town, just good friends hanging out for each other's company, and for fun. I think it was her who made the suggestion initially, but I was also game, that we should go to a strip club. Now normally I wouldn't go to such a place with a woman, but she told me that she had been before and that this particular place had both male and female strippers, performing seperately.

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My wife Jane has a brother named Steve. Steve married a Mexican girl name Rosa. Rosa is from medium sized town in central Mexico. Last July My wife Jane and I went on vacation with Rosa and Steve to her hometown. Instead of staying in a hotel, Rosa arranged for us to stay for free in some friend's vacation house. Rosa and Steve stayed with her family. A couple blocks and a central plaza separated the two houses. 

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The following is fiction. I do not condone unsafe sex, so take this as mere fantasy, for that is what it is. * There it is, that old beech tree. I haven't been back here in well over a year. But, my last memories of this place, like most passionate, life-changing events, are vivid enough to have been yesterday. I can still feel the abrasions that marked my chest for days after.

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I'm your average 49-year-old guy from Indiana sitting on someone's couch in Michigan who I just met only a day ago. Standing in front of me and looking down was someone that I spoke with online only recently and he was unbuttoning his pants and smiling at me as I watched him. I'm average, just short of 6 foot tall and weighing about 175, I run every day.

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I couldn’t believe that this was happening. It all started as an innocent bet. Of course, I had lost. Because of a stupid tipped ball in the endzone, I, Cliff Bartum, Mrs. Bartum’s baby boy, was on my hands and knees between my roommate’s, Aaron’s, legs. Because I lost the bet, I was supposed to be Aaron’s slave for the week. (I know it was stupid, but I was cocky and my team was up by 14 points in the 4 quarter at the time.)

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As companies cut back on employee benefits, you have to find your perks where you can. My perk was having a desk across from the photocopier. When I wasn't focused on my computer screen, I was watching women's butts as they bent over to load paper in the copier. I never caught a glimpse of panties, but I kept hoping to see stocking tops and garters someday. That was my Holy Grail, and I prayed that short skirts would remain in fashion.

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My heart was pounding as I dialed the number to Don's house. Liz had taken the kids to her sister's for the weekend; I was home alone and figured it was now or never. "Hello?" Susan answered the phone. "Hi Sue, Mike here. Is Don home?"

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